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Step by Step/Issue 28
This is Issue #28 of Step by Step. This is the fourth issue of Volume Five. Balls-Up A never-ending minute later. Joseph sat on the pews still-''sprawled'' on them-stretching. He'd awoken to a group huddle in the middle of the hallway, most folks on the velvet carpeting which led into the gift shop. His joints popped where he never knew they lived, felt relieved. He touched his face, cold to the touch. He felt all right, but in reality he was a grass pale. Joseph massaged his throat, raspy and thick. He checked his heart, feeling it gallop in his chest. If he'd been two decks of cards older, say hitting his forties, then he'd have been worried. Instead, like all animals alike, he rose up with a start. His pistol damn near fell from his lap. Somehow, he managed to keep it up and found himself standing in utterly still air. No one spoke, nobody. The window where Malcolm had been looking at, where everyone was now looking at, was the deepest shade of black. Orbs of black popped out from each outline, sticking to the glass like moths on flypaper. Then, more windows succumbed to the darkness until the whole of King's became a black hole. No light came, and nothing left. Joseph paddled his way over to them, seeing that even the Davis family was up, standing by Gordon Black's side. Damn him and his leg. The window's opaque shroud of black eased up, letting a sliver of daylight pop about. Then, a mere second later, it blacked out. The windows shook and screeched, the mass of dozens of bodies on each one. "What the hell?" That was Carter. Alexander started to wander off, headed for the window. He walked all the way to where Nolan stood, where the man grabbed Alex by the arm. "I wouldn't." Alexander looked back. "What?" "Better we wait and see." "For what?" Nolan didn't have an answer. "You don't think–" he started, and then one window gave out. It wasn't quick, or pretty. One after another, heads and arms plopped out the window. Watching it was painful, and reminded Nolan of traffic during high morning. It held him spellbound, his eyes slithered over every detail. A window next to it burst, something–a man as it turned out to be–yelled and bolted out through it. Nolan thought that was what finally started the stampede. The undead rushed helter-skelter out the portholes and into the church. They came moving fast, eating up through the sides. There must be a limit to how fast folks can go, and certainly some people have put that to the test–crowds at movie theaters running when someone shouts fire, or during Black Friday opening–but Nolan had never seen something like this before, the knotty pack came right at them in no time at all. That moment Nolan couldn't tell if one of the figures was going for him or not. That moment it seemed they were all turned away from him, abstaining him and focusing on the others, yet he couldn't help but think they were looking at him. That moment Nolan's blood turned to ice. That moment his spine chilled from the top down. Then he saw some look his way, growling inhumanely. Nolan was the first to go down. Two of them, one a woman and the other a man, sent him to the floor on his ass. He rammed them to the side, kicking the man away. He pulled away from the woman with a tremendous jerk, his sleeve coming off in her grasp. Suddenly the air was full of whipping cracks, and several dead folk fell down all around him. One landed next to Nolan, a splatter of spaced shots ran up his chest and Nolan heard her give a slow hiss. Another walked over Nolan and Carter swung his fist at it. Malcolm and Hector were coming, Amanda as well, but they were coming too slowly. Carter was closest. He grabbed for Nolan, ripping him from a kind of team of hands. Then something floated out of the dark. It was unfeasible for anyone to see against the charcoal-colored air, but Nolan heard it come with a moan. It came with a twisted, snot-clogged snore. Carter pulled him hard, seizing Nolan by the waist and throwing him on both feet. Around to the sideline, a pack of crazies. This bunch was visible to Nolan and Carter, and caught them snarling at a few others. Jacob Davis, known for his tall stature, bashed one of them on the head like a game of Whack-a-Mole. He screamed and looked for the first thing handy, which happened to be a cardboard box along the wall. He heaved it up, drawing its length up, and swung down. They came on and on, barely beating the horsewhip cracks of gunfire. Carter took a crack at them, holding up the gun with both hands like he'd seen people do in the movies. "What the fuck is this?" He asked nobody in particular and emptied four good clean shots into the crowd. After that, he and Nolan walked backwards, drawing up to where everyone else was fixing to get to. As they started to run, one of floorboards caught Nolan's foot. His hands beat at the air, flailing as if in surprise before knocking his head on the ground floor. A band of hard light tore across his eyes. It would have been his ass in a sling if Carter hadn't noticed and helped him back up, two of the dead folks pouncing on the same spot as he did so. Nolan saw someone, Alexander, trip over at the head of the pews. He tumbled over, bonking the floor with his side. He was half in the pews and half out, and you already know which part the dead went for. Nolan then saw–and as far as he knew, he was the only one who saw this–Alexander appeared to not make any effort to move by himself, but had a crazie drag him into the aisle. He heard the kid scream, so loud his lungs must have exploded like blood sausages. And as fast as he saw this happen, Alexander came back up on both feet, face ashen. "I don't like this," he heard Carter say. "Not one bit." "That bad is it?" "Really, that bad." Carter said, right when they neared the choir set. Malcolm was making due with his gun's kickback. A constellation of light covered the gun's muzzle with every click, illuminating the hallway like Chinese lanterns. He was shouting something, but his voice cracked over the gunfire. To the side of the alter, Gordon was limping his way to a door on the farside with Lilian and the Davis family. The two Hispanic cops followed in a hustle, then Joseph with Alex. Wayne and Eugene were in last, running slowly. When Carter and Nolan passed the first pews, the man who'd grabbed poor Alexander came up. He had his nose crooked to the side, where the kid had probably punched. Carter raised the gun, tugging his bad one over one ear to block out the noise. The man kept coming, head lolling to the side. Carter fired, and put that shooting practice to good use. The round hit him in the throat. His jugular sputtered in a shower of red, jutting out as it popped and he slumped over the first bench. "This says it all," Eugene said as he glanced back. "This is a bad place, isn't it, Wayne?" Wayne didn't bother to argue. Issues Category:Step by Step Category:Category:Step by Step Issues Category:Issues